Taste
by tectrices
Summary: Dean gets drunk one night and kisses Cas.  Cas isn't really sure what to make of that.


**Title:** Taste  
><strong>Pairing: <strong> pre-Dean/Castiel  
><strong>Prompt: <strong>first kiss

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><p>Dean has been trying hard to be cheerful all night - too hard, after a hunt that went bad and he is pretending it didn't. Sam leaves the bar long before Dean does, mumbling excuses and an aside to Cas to take care of his brother as he slides off his bar stool, clapping Dean awkwardly on the back as he slinks away. Cas isn't particularly sure where Sam would even go, but Dean seems unconcerned. He waves Sam off, almost falling from the force of the movement. Cas puts a hand on Dean's back to steady him. Dean is warm and as soon as he is upright Cas draws his hand away.<p>

He feels almost as though he is standing guard. Dean is particularly gregarious after the alcohol has loosened his tongue, chatting with at least half of the patrons at the bar and trading flirtatious winks with a group of women at a table nearby. And while he certainly doesn't begrudge Dean his good time, keeping an eye on a drunken human is not at the top of Castiel's list of priorities. It, in fact, does not even come close. He is not at the Winchester's beck and call, regardless of what they seem to think, and while he is perfectly capable of doing as Sam asks, he is not entirely sure why he should.

He is reluctant to leave, though, because Dean does not seem to realize he should stop drinking and when Cas tried to explain in appropriately explicit detail what copious amounts of alcohol did to the human liver Dean just ignored him and went back to flirting. He won't be able to walk soon and he'll ask Castiel to take him back to the hotel and then he will complain about it - even though it is exponentially faster. And once the women leave that is exactly what happens.

"Should've gotten a phone number," Dean says, laying back on one of the beds. His face is flushed a soft pink and his mouth is turned up in a lazy, half-dazed smile. He tries to push down the heel of one boot with the toe of the other, but his motor skills are impaired and after he gets it about halfway off his foot he gives up and shakes his leg until it comes off. He leaves the other boot on.

"I'm not taking you back there," Castiel says, and Dean snorts, amused. Cas isn't quite sure why. "You're drunk."

"Yup." Dean struggles a minute but then manages to sit up on the edge of the bed. He leans his head to one side until his neck pops then looks up at Cas with eyes, half lidded. "I'm drunk."

He seems pleased more than anything else and though Castiel could purge his system of all the alcohol in it, he decides not to offer.

Dean pats the bed beside him and says "Sit down," and Castiel does. "Are you going to stay and watch me sleep?" he asks. His voice is slurred, slower than normal.

"I don't think that will be necessary," Cas replies.

"Good." Then, contrary to what he's just said, he leans against Cas' shoulder. His eyes close. "You keep the nightmares away," he says and he pushes his thigh into Cas'. The sensation of having a human body is strange, and the warmth from Dean's is inviting. Cas stays still as Dean mumbles something to himself, grabbing on to Jimmy Novak's trench coat. He mumbles again, something incomprehensible, before saying "C'm'ere," in slow, deep cadence. He grabs the coat's lapel and tugs, leaning up, and presses a hard kiss to the corner of Cas' mouth.

It catches him off guard. Dean doesn't seem inclined to explain his actions; he only grunts and falls over onto the bed. Castiel stands and Dean wriggles up further toward the pillows.

After a minute or two, Cas isn't counting, Dean falls asleep. He is still, snores issuing from the warm, sumptuous mouth that had just touched Castiel's.

One boot is still on Dean's foot and Cas wonders if he should take it off. He wonders if he should stay until Sam returns. The t-shirt Dean is wearing rides up and a strip of skin shows above his jeans. Castiel thinks on his Father's creation and agrees that it is marvelous. He touches his mouth; the lips are chapped and dry and he feels the pads of his fingers on them just as well as he feels the lips on the tips of his fingers. Discomfort settles in his new, human stomach and even though Dean will be alone Cas decides it is time to leave. He wonders if Dean will remember, when he wakes, that he kissed Castiel, firm and quick, on the edge of his mouth, right at the seam of his lips. And he wonders, if he dares to ask, if Dean will tell him _why_.

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><p>Thanks for reading! This was originally written on tumblr, after I'd asked followers for prompts. If you'd like to find me there, I'm tectrices dot tumblr dot com, and if you'd like to leave a prompt in my askbox, I'd love to receive it! Thanks again - feedback is, of course, appreciated. I like this story a lot. My view of Dean and Cas is as soldiers - which, you know, they are. And I think that it would come as a surprise, especially to Cas, to figure out there might be some attraction there. Those are my favorite kind of stories, with understanding and realization just starting to bloom, but they have to put it off because they're at war. Ugh, I love this two to ridiculous amounts.<p> 


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